


At Play

by solarlotus



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Army AU, BDSM, Cock Warming, Collars, Face-Fucking, M/M, PTSD, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Spanking, They love each other so much, They're traumatised but have each other, Top Finan; Bottom Uhtred, mild choking, sub space, watersports (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarlotus/pseuds/solarlotus
Summary: Modern AU, Uhtred and Finan are soldiers. They happen to love a bit of bdsm play.
Relationships: Finan/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Kudos: 10





	At Play

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kirsten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/gifts).



> This is basically porn with some feelings. Please read the tags, if you don't like don't read. This fic is for Kirsten as she is to blame.

By strength and guile they say, it’s on the badge of the green beret that sits in the hall way, both of them. Pride of place as you come into our little cottage in Dorset. I currently feel out of both.

The nights are broken with the faces of the mountains and caves of Afghanistan, the deserts of Iraq, the endless burning oil wells, I remember the smoke, the smell and taste in my mouth and wake up trying to gulp water to take away the burning of the desert.   
Their faces loom before me, bearded, turbaned, young, old, scared, defiant, pale and dark, spouting the same gibberish to their god whether in an Arabic or Irish tongue when they realised who had come for them. 

  
And now I am safe at home, in this perfect little corner of England watching Finan plant his precious dahlias and the bees busy themselves in the huge budlia that fills the air with fragrance. We have our little cottage by the sea, so far from the horrors of our working lives. 

  
‘Uhtred,’ Finan complains. ‘The fecking slugs have been at me lupins.’

  
I laugh, the war in our house is Finan, Lieutenant Commander, Royal Marines and SBS versus the garden slug. The slug is winning.

  
‘It’s not fecking funny,’ he complains. ‘The bastards are everywhere.’

  
He looks up at me sees I am once again far away. The next I know he is beside me, earth stained hands on my shoulders, facing me.

‘Where are you?’ he asks.

  
‘The caves,’ I answer. ‘I fucking saw him, I saw his cold dead eyes, I could’ve had him, Finan.’

  
‘We were told to pull back,’ he tells me for the thousandth time. ‘You couldn’t have…’

  
‘I should have.’

  
Those mountains haunt me, the beautiful wild mountains of Afghanistan, beautiful wild country of crazy beautiful people. We blew up every rock in the damn place and then were told to wait. Cries in Arabic for god, for mothers rang out around us and we had an American voice yelling in our ear pieces to pull back, pull back. 

  
We lost five men pulling back that night. 

  
‘I know what you need,’ he says firmly. He looks at me intensely, brown eyes burning. I know Finan better than any man alive, he is my closest companion, brother in arms, my second in command, my oldest friend, my lover. And when the time is right, he is my master. 

  
‘Tonight,’ he says. ‘Be ready.

  
~ 

  
At seven I am ready for him. The curtains are already drawn in our little cottage. We have one large sofa and bookshelves that overflow. Our walls and shelves are full of war trophies only soldiers such as us would have; an alpha force cap badge, rocks from the caves, AK47s hanging over the fireplace, kufiyahs from our enemies. I even have a gold soap dish from Baghdad’s presidential palace.

We don’t let people come here unless they are our people, this is not a home the villagers knock at. Finan talks to them in the garden, I scowl, happy with my trophies, my memories and my lover.

  
I can hear him coming down the stairs and ready myself. In a few moments Major Ragnarson will be gone and I will be free of my cares, the trophies and badges will be meaningless. The world will reduce to one man.

  
I am kneeling on the thick afghan rug when he enters the room, fidgeting with the collar so the buckles jangle, tempting me to look up. I keep my head bowed, know my place. It won’t do to upset him so early on. I want him to take me down tonight.

  
His hands settle on my neck, circling it, fingers tightening and relaxing several times, testing me, assessing the tension in my muscles. I concentrate on breathing, on keeping my head bowed, but everything is focused on his fingers. Then the cold metal and leather hits my skin and I am his completely. 

  
He buckles the collar just on the side of tight, when I grow agitated and strain later it will be tighter still, leaving marks on my skin, marks I crave. I want to be marked by him, to be branded with his touch. Then he settles down in his favourite chair and snaps his fingers.

  
I crawl to his feet and settle. Finan is a good master. He has set out my blanket and I curl onto it at his feet, he will tell me when I am needed. Finan has picked up the newspaper and is scanning the back pages, snorting at something. 

  
‘That’s a terrible result,’ he mutters. I am not required to respond or enquire, he will tell me if he wants my opinion. He never does though. I am nothing to him but a useful hole when I am wearing this collar. 

  
He’s on page four of the sport now, reading intently, I think he may have even forgotten me, but he glances down occasionally at my spot, to check I am still there.

Now he pats his thigh and gives me a nod. My heartbeat quickens, he has given me permission to lay my head on his thighs. He spreads his legs so I can kneel between them and adjusts his cock. I am hard now, I have been semi hard since this started, a low level buzz of arousal, but being near his thighs and close enough to inhale his musk his driving me crazy. 

  
He is wearing jeans today. Tight denim that covers the scar along his right thigh and a bullet wound at his hip. We are both criss-crossed with a warrior’s scars, but it is the hard muscle I want, the strength that could suffocate me between his legs that are caressing me. 

  
He’s sensed my excitement and tugs sharply on the collar in warning and the sudden constriction on my breath settles me and I lay my head on his right thigh, my hands obediently on his knees. I lay still for a few moments, enjoying the contact. He is warm, hard muscle and soft huffs as he reads his newspaper. My head is turned towards his body and I am sure he is getting hard, excited at my proximity to his cock. I incrementally edge closer, pleased when he doesn’t respond, busied with turning his page. Seven times this happens until my face is pressed to his groin and he is definitely swelling, my hot breath is on the seams between his legs, starting to quicken. I want to take him in my mouth so much, give him the pleasure he deserves.

  
Finan shakes out his newspaper, he has moved to the front pages and I am now nose to groin, giving him contact. It’s when my lips touch a definite hardness it happens. I know it shouldn’t have happened, it is not up to me to decide on such things and to hump his leg without permission is a liberty. But I can’t help it, in that moment I lose myself.

  
Finan reacts immediately, throwing his newspaper down and jerking my collar hard.

  
‘What is this?’ he asks, stern, his fingers between the leather and my neck, choking me.

  
‘Sorry, sir,’ I gasp, remembering his title. ‘I’m so so sorry. I was bad.’

  
Excuses won’t wash with Finan and I am afraid he will send me to the corner, tears are welling in my eyes, from the tightness around my neck and the fear of the corner. But he releases me, I have said enough, or little enough. He hauls me up and over his lap. My cock rubs against his thigh and I know he does this to torment me, I have made a mess because I’m leaking and make strangled noise that might be an apology, it’s hard to tell, because then his hand comes down hard and I jump involuntarily, my cock jerking. 

  
‘No, that won’t do,’ he says, smacking me again on the other check. ‘No, no, it won’t do. You have been a naughty boy, darlin’, can’t have my sweetheart behaving like a cockslut.’

  
He shakes his head, reaches underneath the chair. I know what’s coming out and shiver. The belt. He made me choose it, in an upmarket tailor in London, his hand splayed on the small of my back. Real leather, dark brown. Sometimes he wears it all day and I am expected to go about my business normally. I never manage and end up breaking his rules, which are that I must be a good boy for him and not get hard in inappropriate places like the car or the garden centre. He asks me if I deserve punishment with the belt or fucking and I can’t answer, such decisions aren’t for me. He waits until tears are falling down my face and I’m sobbing that I’m just his hole before he acts, cradling me in his arms before thrashing me with the belt then fucking my raw arse.

  
Today he wraps the belt around his hand with intent. He looks severe and he has undone his flies to release his cock, pulling it out his boxers so it stands proudly where I can see it, taunting me. He has wrapped the belt short so I know I am staying over his lap and think I am making noises of gratitude, it’s so good to be close to him, to feel his body next to mine, to be where he can pet me if he chooses to. 

  
Finan pets my hair before he starts, strokes it back from my forehead and wipes my cheek of a single tear.

‘Shushhhh, sweetheart,’ he murmurs. ‘Be a good boy, only pretty sounds.’

  
I know it doesn’t last long in reality, but it feels a long time when he’s bringing the leather down on my backside, making me jump involuntarily in his lap. He works fast today, covering my arse methodically with sharp lashes. I want it, so badly, I know he’s working fast to stop me getting too worked up, not giving me time to anticipate the next stroke and rub my cock on his thigh. 

  
When it’s over I am panting, trying so hard not to cry out and moan loudly, give voice to my deep primal need to be filled by him. I know he likes me to be pretty, not give into grunting like an animal. So I gasp and mewl quietly as he pulls me up to sit in his lap, rubbing my sore buttocks against the denim on his thighs. 

  
These moments are what I dream of, being held and petted. He strokes my back, my hair and lets me lie close against his chest.

Then it is over, I have a job, he is tired of stroking me now and I have something more urgent to attend to.

  
‘Your mouth is looking sluttish,’ he observes, taking my chin in his hand and examining me. ‘Plump lips are made for cocks. Do you want cocks in your pretty mouth?’

  
‘Just yours,’ I tell him truthfully. My days of dreaming of multiple cock are long gone, now I only wish for Finan, for his cock, which is perfect, thick, hard and long. He was made to fill me. It is a cock for fucking, a cock for a top like him to fill a slut like me.

  
‘Good boy,’ he whispers, a hint of strain finally showing on his face as he shrugs me off and stands, shoving his jeans down, stepping out of them and his underwear, giving him the freedom to widen his stance as I kneel for him, waiting, mouth open, staring longingly at his cock.

  
He pulls me forward by the hair and I gasp, there is no easing in, my mouth is full straightaway. He holds my head, not letting me get my hands near him to gasp the base of his cock or play with his balls. So I hold his thighs for balance, relax and let him fuck me. I am not meant to show off, tease him with my tongue. He will make it clear if he wants that, tonight all I am is a hole. I relax my throat and take him, eyes streaming, drool running down my chin, my mind drifting into the perfect peace I crave, I can only feel my sore arse cheeks and his cock, there is nothing else that matters. 

  
Finan comes soon, he loves me being a good boy and loves me being pretty, which he says I am when I look up at him while he fucks my face. I can feel it coming before he spills, the urgency of his thrusts, the grip on my head tightening to painful. Then he is spilling, over my tongue, pulling out and coating my lips and chin, shuddering as he comes down and says my name – my name – as he wipes his cock over my cheeks, smearing my face with his come.

  
‘So pretty,’ he purrs, sitting down again.

I remain kneeling, I haven’t moved, I am breathless and tear stained, my face is wet and I am hazy eyed as he gazes at me.

‘My pretty, pretty boy, so beautiful.’ He wipes away my tears with his thumbs and then grabs a tissue and wipes away the remainder of his spunk. ‘You my lick your lips,’ he tells me with a smile.

  
I nod, happy and grateful, tasting more of him before he gently wipes me clean.

  
‘You’re such a good boy, Uhtred,’ he tells me softly.

I think I make a soft mewling sound. I want to throw myself on him, he is perfect, my perfect man and my master. But I can’t do that with my master. Instead I dig my heels into my buttocks to feel the burn, so the pain grounds me and reminds me that I am his hole, he is my master and I need to be good.

  
‘Look at you, sweetheart,’ he sighs, happily, stroking my face. ‘Always trying to be good. I’m going to reward you. You can warm my cock.’

  
I let out a little moan of joy as he spreads his legs and I nestle between them. He positions my hands on his hips and tilts my head so he can see my face. 

  
‘That’s it, sweetheart,’ he sighs happily as I eagerly take his soft cock in my mouth, close my eyes and moan softly with pleasure.

‘Baby, you’re so pretty like this. Such a good boy.’

  
I know he’s tipped his head back and is relaxing now. He may even doze for a bit, we both might. One of his hands is settled in my hair, the other on my shoulder, just touching my collar. My cock has settled to a dull ache of need, constant, but pleasurable, like the pain on my buttocks. It reminds me he is my master and that I belong. I belong to him.

  
We stay like this for a while, Finan dozes off, his hand still in my hair as I sink deeper into that space where my mind is closed to all but Finan, where I am just his pretty thing, to be used as he wants. There are no decisions or responsibilities here, no cares, Finan takes care of me, all I need to do is obey.

  
I sigh contentedly, humming around his cock as I enjoy the warmth of his skin on my cheek, the tickle of hair at my nose and his perfect cock slowly swelling again in my mouth.

  
He opens sleepy eyes. ‘Such a good boy,’ he whispers. ‘My perfect hole, my perfect cock warmer.’ 

  
I sigh again happily, eager to show my contentment. I want him so much, in me, on me, but I’m relaxed, I know he will look after me. 

  
‘Baby,’ he says gently. ‘I need to use you.’ 

  
My cock jumps and I feel my pulse quicken. He lifts my head by the collar around my neck and I pop off his cock, mouth wet and drooling still. He wipes his cock on my cheek, making me whimper.

  
‘Such pretty little sounds,’ he purrs, pulling his t-shirt off so he’s completely naked. He’s beautiful, I love his body and can happily worship him for hours. Who wouldn’t enjoy him? 

  
‘Present yourself on the sofa,’ he orders, pointing to the expanse of cushions to my right. Our sofa is large, wide and comfortable. It is also ideal for fucking on. I scramble to obey him, getting on my knees and elbows, head bowed, my still raw arse up. He pats my buttocks, stinging the red skin and I hear him moving behind me.

  
‘So gorgeous,’ he mutters and I feel elated because I please him, I raise my arse further, showing him how ready I am for whatever he wants to do next. 

  
Then his beard is tickling my crack and his hot wet tongue is there, gliding over my crack and hole. I am whimpering shamelessly, his beard stings the raw skin of my buttocks but his tongue is driving me crazy. 

  
My cock is leaking and I struggle not to rock in time with the thrusts of his tongue inside me. I feel elated and empty at the same time, it’s so much yet not enough because I need filling now, need the satisfaction of his cock deep inside me. I’d never been fucked before Finan, I’d never enjoyed sex much at all in truth until the day he lay on top of me, holding my hands to the bed as he sucked me off. Later that day he fucked me and it was everything I’d ever desired and more, better than I could have dreamed off. 

  
It’s only got better. I want to be stretched, pounded, jerked against the arm of the sofa, I want to feel like I’m going to burst, that I’ll split in two, I want that delicious pressure on my prostate driving me insane, I want to feel like I’m a whore for his cock and come with his prick deep inside me. 

  
But it isn’t time yet, so my moaning will go ignored. He is kissing and sucking my hole now, I know I’m clenching and unclenching desperately, bearing down to open up to him and his tongue thrusts as deep as he can. Then he grabs my cock and strokes, I am almost there when he lifts his head and growls at me.

  
‘Not yet,’ he says firmly, stopping his stroking. ‘You won’t get my cock if you come now.’ 

  
I whimper, I want his cock so badly. I want him in me when I come, I want his seed to dribble out of me, I want him to put his fingers in the mess and give them to me to lick. 

  
‘Please...’ I manage to stutter as he goes back to kissing and licking my hole.

  
‘What do you want, sweetheart?’

  
‘You,’ I tell him simply. ‘Whatever you choose.’

  
It’s not up to me to decide these things. I don’t think I could tell him what I want anyway, I want too much. I want him everywhere, I’m overwhelmed by him. 

  
He squeezes my cock again, halting the inexorable pressure to come. He has a finger inside me now, slipped in pressing on me. My noises have become feral now, no longer pretty because the pressure is making me need to piss. I don’t know whether I will come or piss myself first. It’s happened before, he’s waited until my bladder was bursting, teased me and waited until I was mad with it, crazed, then watched me piss all over my blanket, thrilled by the stream coming out my cock and pressing his face into the soaked warm fabric, inhaling deeply, before fucking me, kneeling in the wetness, coming fast and hard inside me. But that is not his plan today. 

  
‘Shushhh,’ he soothes. ‘Make sweet noises for me.’

There is pressure on my collar as he pulls it, tightening it at my throat. I can’t imagine the state I must be in, my face is wet, red and my hair is wild. My arse is red raw and crack sloppy with his saliva and now the lube he’s dribbling down to my hole. But he’s telling me I’m his perfect boy and I feel an elation that goes beyond the excitement in my cock, beyond the throbbing pleasure inside me. 

  
Then he’s holding my hips and his cock is breaching me easily. I am so ready, so needy. He always checks I’m okay, but today I need it hard and he knows this. He can feel how ready I am by the ease at which he’s entered me. 

  
This is what I crave, I’m being fucked into the sofa with abandon, I’m stretched to the limit and my cock is weeping, I’m so desperate to come now, to let go. But I mustn’t until he says I can. My orgasm isn’t important tonight, he is. I am being a good hole, a good slut and I can hear Finan’s grunts of pleasure as he fucks me.

  
I turn to look up at him, damp with sweat, hips thrusting back and forth. He’s utterly beautiful and he’s chosen me, I will be filled with his seed, I will be carried to bed and lay beside him. I am the one he calls his baby, his sweetheart, his beautiful boy. 

  
We are rocking in time now, we are one, joined and I wish it could last forever. I am concentrating on making sure my sounds are pretty and meek. Finan says grunting is for soldiers, not good pretty boys. I am no longer a soldier, I am his pretty boy and I’m trying so hard to be good, to please him. 

  
He’s stroking my cock again now and it’s too much, I beat my hands on the sofa, crying something that could be his name, begging. I hear him let out a satisfied laugh. 

  
‘On my command, you can come,’ he tells me, voice thick with desire. He’s stroking me fast, fucking me hard and deep. I don’t think I can hold off and then he speaks. ‘Come for me.’

  
I am spurting into his hand, on the sofa, my whole body shaking, pulsing. I let out a silent scream then a long mewl as he roughly fucks me through it, before coming loudly, filling me as my shaking body gives way and I collapse with Finan on top of me.

  
~

  
I’m lying in bed, in Finan’s arms, my head on his chest. I’m still wearing my collar, I want to bask in this, my perfect sub space, my perfect master who knows my every need. 

  
Finan is examining his photos as I lie happily atop him. He has a Polaroid camera he uses to take pictures of my hole after fucking me, to see how wide open I am, how beautiful he says. He’s bleary eyed now, smiling and content, pleased with tonight’s photo. 

  
‘You were amazing, so good,’ he coos yet again, pressing his lips to my head. 

  
I smile and snuggle closer. He will hold me all night and no nightmares will trouble me. He may nudge my arse cheeks apart and fuck me if he has the urge and I will welcome him. The collar will stay on until we shower in the morning, he will fuck me against the wall, over the sink, always his parting gift as we will ease back into our lives. Until the next time. 


End file.
